


les mots d'amour

by anja_c



Series: anja's drunk shenanigans [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Bellamy Blake, Doctor Clarke Griffin, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, IM DRUNK, Slow Dancing, and by he i mean sexual tension, and tired, bc im like that, but its cute af, god idefk what this is, lord help me, oh lawd he coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anja_c/pseuds/anja_c
Summary: “Most people suck.”“Most people do.”“But not you,” she smiled.After a particularly stressful day in the trauma wing, Clarke finds herself in a dingy dive-bar run by none other than Bellamy Blake, the estranged older brother of her roommate and best friend, Octavia. Then it keeps happening.or, another med student clarke and bartender bellamy modern au that literally fucking no one asked for





	les mots d'amour

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy ya bitch is drunk again whoo! here's something my drunk ass came up with instead of sleeping, the slow dancing scene was inspired by the fact that the second i get booze in me, i become a slut for 50's love songs. idefk dude, thats just me.
> 
> enjoy i guess?? i think its good? its prolly riddled with errors bc again, im pissed off my ass.
> 
> the title is a french phrase that translate to 'words of love', i just thought it was hella cute also it's in the OG version of La Vie En Rose (by Edith Piaf) although in my story, Bellamy and Clarke are listening to the Louis Armstrong version.

**BEEP BEEP BEEP**

Clarke sighed, reluctantly rolling out of bed as the alarm on her phone screamed at her. She wasn’t looking forward to today, she had an hour study session from 7am, one hour break, an hour prepping Raven for her interview for the NASA internship she was up for, then half an hour at the gym before her practise MCAT at 10, followed by a gruelling 11-hour shift at the hospital. She obviously didn’t have her medical licence yet, but she had taken a job as a medical receptionist at the local hospital, hoping it would give her some inside experience – it had but she still had days when she questioned her decision to take up to position.

Crawling into the kitchen, she saw her dormmate, Octavia, sitting brightly at the breakfast table, slowly slurping down some disgusting green concoction her kick-boxing coach had most likely recommended she start drinking. Clark didn’t understand how someone could be so happy so early in the day.

“Morning, Roomie!” Octavia called cheerfully.

Clarke grunted something indistinct, trudging towards the coffee machine and pouring herself a cup. Octavia didn’t drink coffee – something about it being bad for your metabolism, a fact which Clarke had told her was false many times – but she always made up a pot for Clarke every morning.

“Any plans for today?” Octavia asked with mock-nonchalance, as if she had suddenly forgotten about the busy schedule Clarke had today that she’d been complaining about for the last three days.

“Har har,” Clarke rolled her eyes, not having it. “You know what today’s going to be like for me so for the love of god will you let me sleep in tomorrow? I’m not even going to be home until about 6 or 7am.” Clarke revised her earlier statement, “so scratch that, don’t wake me up for 24 hours after I get home.”

“No promises,” Octavia called in a sing-song tone, gliding out of the room.

Clarke sank into her seat. _Today was going to be rough._

\---

“You look _wrecked_ ” Raven told her as she stumbled back into the library for the second time that day.

“Don’t even fucking talk to me right now,” Clarke replied, slurping back her sixth coffee of the day.

“That’s going to make this mock interview a little hard then, isn’t it?” Raven teased.

Clarke was too tired to respond, simply picking up the sheet of questions she was supposed to ask her friend.

After an hour of practising, she wished Raven luck, giving her one last hug before heading to the gym. As much as she loved the gym usually, she really wasn’t looking forward to today’s session. She was already so tired, but she knew she needed it. All her life, Clarke had struggled with anxiety, the only way she could quiet the noise sometimes, was exercise. It was especially necessary when she had days like these. She pushed through it and when the alarm finally went off for her to shower and get changed, Clarke was surprised, she had been totally spaced out.

Despite her doubts, as she stood in front of the exam hall, Clarke felt ready. Ready for the 7 and a half hours of torture that was the MCAT. _Practise_ MCAT, she reminded herself.

\---

“Hey, there she is! How’d it go, Rockstar?” Jackson’s enthusiastic voice greeted her as she walked through the front doors to the ER.

“It went alright, I think,” Clarke sighed, “I managed to make it through without a panic attack or even an anxiety attack which was good.”

“That’s amazing, Clarke!” he congratulated her. Jackson was only so many years older than her, but he was somehow almost finished with his residency and kind of like Clarke’s mentor.

“Thanks, Jackson,” she smiled, always happy to have him be proud of her.

Her shift had been pretty easy until about 3am. Clarke was counting down the last couple hours until she could go when a man stumbled in, clutching his chest. He walked up to Clarke, slamming his bloodied hands on her desk.

“ _Help me_ ,” he wheezed out, blood spilling from his lips, before collapsing. She immediately sprang into action, paging the nurses. She helped them lift the man onto a gurney and watched him get wheeled through the double doors, most likely on his way to be prepped for an exam and then possibly an emergency surgery. She wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with him of course but she had her money on tuberculosis or pneumonia. She sat in the empty waiting room, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart, steeling herself for the impending panic attack that she could just feel coming.

“Hey,” Jackson ran into the room, snapping her out of it, “I heard what happened. Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Clarke still sat, eyes fixed on the ground, “just a little rattled.”

“He’s stable for the moment, they’re doing a CT scan now.”

She nodded, unable to respond.

“You did the right thing, Clarke,” he sat next to her, “calling the nurses immediately. You probably saved his life.”

“Thanks,” Clarke finally met Jackson’s eyes.

“You should go home, I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

“My shift isn’t over,” she shook her head, “and I want to wait until he’s come out of surgery or whatever they have to do.”

Jackson didn’t protest, just nodded, “ok.”

Clarke got up and sat back behind her desk, one of the nurses had cleaned up the blood. She sat for ages, even after the day receptionist came to relieve her, she sat waiting for news about the unidentified man.

Jackson walked back into the room around 11am. She looked up at him hopefully but the cheeriness usually present in his face was gone.

“I’m sorry, Clarke. It turns out he was suffering from pulmonary embolism. Once they realised, it was too late.”

Clarke just sat, unable to do or say anything.

“It wasn’t your fault though, you did everything you could. You followed protocol,” Jackson stroked her arm reassuringly.

“I know,” she managed to squeeze out. “I think I’m going to go home, get some rest.”

He agreed, saying something about it being a good idea but Clarke didn’t hear him. She got in her car and began to drive home, when she reached the turn-off for her street though, she just kept driving. She didn’t know where she was going, she just knew she didn’t want to go home.

Eventually, Clarke found herself in a dingy bar off a side road, it smelled of piss and other substances that she wished to remain unidentified. Sitting down at the bar, she croaked out, “whiskey, straight.” She knew it was cliché as all hell but after the day she had, she couldn’t care less. The bartender set her drink down in front of her, his eyes falling to her chest and lingering there for way too long.

“Had a nice, long look?” Clarke snapped.

“Sorry,” the bartender mused, “you just…” he trailed off, pointing to her shirt, “you have… blood… on your…”

“Oh shit!” She had completely forgotten that the man had emptied the contents of his heart onto her chest through his lungs, if that was even possible. “Sorry for snapping, I’ve had a really shitty day.”

“Don’t stress,” he told her. “No, please,” he told her as she began pulling out cash to pay for her drink, “on me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean you had a really shitty day, right?” he offered a smile. It was the kind of smile that Clarke had only read about in books. It wasn’t until then that she noticed the bartender was actually extremely attractive. All tall, dark and brooding, dark curls framing his face and falling in his eyes.

“Thanks,” she replied meekly, shaking herself out of her trance.

“So, what happened? Shank a guy for staring at your boobs?” he laughed at his own joke.

Clarke looked at him confused.

“The…” he pointed to his own chest this time, reminding her of their earlier conversation.

“Oh, right. No, not exactly,” she trailed off. She just wanted a drink, she didn’t want to sit here, pouring her heart out – as it were – to this handsome stranger.

The bartender nodded, realising that a story that ended with blood all over her chest probably wasn’t a story she was willing to tell.

An awkward silence descended on the pair. Clarke took a large swig of her drink, finishing it in one go. “Another… please.”

He topped her off without a word. They continued like that for a while, her drinking in silence, him topping up her glass when she asked. The next thing she knew, she was wasted and telling this random guy her entire life story.

“And I just sat there waiting and then Jackson came in and told me he didn’t make and I didn’t know how to process that… so I just drove home, except I didn’t go home. Instead I ended up in this hellhole,” _hic_ , “no offense. And now here we are.”

The bartender said nothing, just nodding as he listened attentively. At some point, he had moved from behind the bar to sit next to her.

“You know,” Clarke slurred, “you’re a really great listener.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled.

“No, I mean it! Most people would be sitting there all ‘oh, I’m so sorry’ this and ‘oh, that’s awful’ that. But not you. You just sit, and listen, and nod, and it’s really great.” She sighed

He was still laughing but he had appreciated her compliment, even if she was drunk off her face. “I mean it too, thanks. Most people get mad when I do that.”

“Most people suck.”

“Most people do.”

“But not you,” she smiled.

“Not me?” he asked, eyebrows raised. She shook her head vigorously, causing her to feel light-headed. She would’ve fallen off her barstool if he hadn’t caught her, his hands darting out and grabbing her arms, steadying her.

“Bartender!” she exclaimed once she had sat back up, sliding him her glass, “another!”

“I think you’ve had enough,” he told her between chuckles.

“Nonsense!” she cried.

“C’mon, let’s get you in a cab and get you home.”

“No, my car’s here. I can’t leave my car here.”

“Ok, you are not driving home like this,” he told her firmly.

“But... my car,” Clarke whined.

“I’ll drive you home in your car, how’s that?” he told her.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah, why not.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” she pat his chest and he gave another chuckle, leading her to her car. “Wait, but what about your work!” she turned around, worry crinkling in her brows.

“My shift ended forty minutes ago,” he reassured her.

“How long have I been here?”

“About two hours. Clarke, how drunk are you?” he suddenly looked very concerned. Maybe he had reason to be, she didn’t even remember telling him her name.

“Teensy bit?” she giggled hysterically.

“Ok, I’m definitely driving you home. C’mon, let’s go.”

He piled her into the passenger seat before getting in the other side, it took a bit of prompting from him to get her to remember her address but once she gave it to him, they headed off. The drive back was mostly silent, with Clarke trying her best not to pass out.

Pulling up at her building he remarked, “huh, that’s weird, this is where my sister lives.”

“Weird,” she dragged the word out.

He shook his head, turning his attention back to Clarke, “I don’t want to leave you alone, you’re very drunk. Is there someone you could invite over? Just to make sure you don’t pass out and swallow your own tongue or something.”

“It’s ok,” she reassured, “Octavia will look after me.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say Octavia?”

“Yeah. Octavia Blake,” she over-enunciated Blake, _Buh-lake_ , “she’s my roommate and my best friend – don’t tell her that,” she gasped suddenly before adding, “Do you know her? Oh! Are you her boxing instructor, Lincoln?”

“No, I’m her brother… Bellamy.”

His words seemed to snap her out of her drunken haze – if only for a moment.

_I’m her brother_

“Wait… you… you Bellamy?” she stumbled, unable to wrap her head around it. She’d heard all about him obviously, Octavia had spent countless nights ranting to her about the “over-bearing, controlling asshole” that was her brother.

“Yes, me Bellamy, you very drunk. Let’s just get you upstairs, ok?”

Clarke didn’t know what to do or how to respond, so she just nodded, and he helped her out of the car. She was so tired and drunk she didn’t even realise they had left the garage until he was knocking hard on her door.

She heard Octavia pattering towards to the door, “I was wondering when you were coming home!” She opened the door, the smirk falling right off her face as her eyes landed on Bellamy. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Returning you roommate,” he offered weakly.

“What did you do to her?” Octavia immediately reached out, practically ripping Clarke from his arms.

“Please don’t be mad,” Clarke whined.

“I’m not mad at _you_ ,” Octavia said through gritted teeth, glaring at Bellamy.

“Listen, O. She came into the bar and ordered some drinks, I didn’t know who she was, ok. Then she got really drunk, so I drove her home. Would you have preferred if I had let her drive herself home like she wanted to?”

“I’d have preferred if you’d just leave my friends alone in the first place,” Octavia ground out.

“Aww,” Clarke cut in, “I knew you thought I was your friend!” Octavia wasn’t very big on the friend thing, she had always maintained that her and Clarke were just roommates, and if they happened to catch up outside of the apartment it was out of pure boredom. And if Octavia happened to end up frustratedly ranting about her dumb, over-protective _asshole_ of a brother, or about her dreamy boxing instructor, well that was just because she had no one else to talk to.

“Are you still mad about the Raven thing?” Bellamy sighed exasperatedly, his head in his hand.

“Yeah, actually. I am!” Octavia was practically screaming by this point.

“I told you! We were both wasted! And she came onto _me_!”

“Octavia,” Clarke tried her best to whisper, cutting in again, “I’m going to be sick.”

The other girl’s eyes widened in panic. “This isn’t over,” she yelled at Bellamy before slamming the door and guiding Clarke down the hall to the communal bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, Clarke was leaning over the toilet, softly sobbing, whilst Octavia held her hair and stroked her back.

“I’m such an-” _hergh_ , “idiot,” Clarke wiped the vomit from her mouth. She had thrown up so much that it was just bile at this point.

“Yes,” Octavia told her softly, “you really are. But you’re also my best friend, so I’ll forgive you,” she joked.

“Aw, you called me your best friend. Not takesie backsies!”

“You’re drunk, you won’t remember this. That’s the only reason I said it.”

“No,” Clarke threw up again, “I will remember,” she promised.

Octavia rolled her eyes, laughing, “Ok, sure.”

“God, I can’t believe your brother had to deliver my drunk ass to your doorstep.”

“ _Our_ doorstep. And yes, that was very annoying, having to see him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Octavia stroked her hair, “you didn’t know.”

“I know, but still.”

“At least you got to see his stupid Mr. Protector act in action.”

“I thought it was nice, actually.”

“You’re drunk, Clarke. You thought the girl who stood at the sink giving us dirty looks for ten minutes straight was flirting with you.”

“She _was_!”

Octavia laughed again.

“Speaking of flirting,” Clarke spoke so softly Octavia almost didn’t hear her. “I’m pretty sure I tried to kiss your brother.”

“You what?”

“I tried to kiss Bellamy… in the car, I think. Or maybe it was at the bar. Either way, it happened.”

“Clarke,” Octavia’s voice was low, Clarke could see she was doing her very best to not burst out in anger, “if he did _anything_ to y-”

“No! God, no!” Clarke looked shocked, “he just pushed me away gently, told me I was wasted… do you really think Bellamy would do something like that?”

“Honestly… no. He’s an ass, sure, but he isn’t the kind of guy to take advantage of drunk girls. I mean sure he slept with Raven when she was drunk, but he was right before, they were both drunk – I saw him earlier at that party and he was absolutely off his face.”

“Then why do you still bring it up? If you know he didn’t do anything wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. You need something to justify your anger. Bellamy told me all about your mother, and how he practically had to raise you.”

“Of course he did,” Octavia rolled her eyes – but deep down she knew that Bellamy would _never_ tell just anyone about their childhood.

“It was only fair, I spilled my entire damn life story to the poor guy. But I think the real reason you bring up these things is because you know that if you didn’t have a reason to be mad at him, you’d have to admit how much he loves you, and how much he’s done for you. And you are so scared to face that because you feel deep down, that you don’t deserve it. But you do, Octavia, and Bellamy knew that – knows that.”

“Wow, ok,” Octavia brushed her off, “one Intro to Psych class and half a bottle of whiskey later and you’re all of a sudden my therapist.”

“You’re denying, but you know I’m right.”

“Finish your vomiting, Clarke. I want to go back inside.”

\---

Clarke walked slowly down the grocery aisle, practically slumped over the shopping cart.

“Ok,” Octavia bounced alongside her cheerily. “Eggs, check. Milk, check. Pasta, check. Anything else?”

“My dignity?” Clarke mumbled from the spot where her forehead rested on the handlebar of the trolley.

“They don’t sell that here, trust me,” Raven piped up from behind them. “Rough night?” she asked Clarke with a smirk after greeting Octavia.

Clarke grunted in affirmation. “She ran into someone at the bar actually,” Octavia’s voice was pricklier than she meant it to be.

“Oh?” Raven sounded inquisitive.

“Bellamy _fucking_ Blake,” Clarke grumbled, raising her head for the first time since they’d walked inside.

“Oh, baby no,” Raven’s screwed her face, taking in Clarke’s large sunglasses and generally dishevelled appearance. Clarke simply stared blankly as Raven reached out and tried to flatten the bird’s nest atop the poor, hungover girl’s head. Something clicked, “wait, is this a walk-of-shame grocery visit?”

“What? God, no.”

“Pity,” Raven shrugged. The other two girls looked puzzled. “Don’t get me wrong,” she explained, “total asshole. But fuck if that wasn’t the best damn night of my life.”

“Wait, you slept with Bellamy?” Clarke’s head was pounding again as vague memories of last night’s conversations came back to her

“Oh, yeah. Didn’t do much sleeping though, I can tell you that now. That man, my friends, is a real man if you know what I-”

“Ok, thank you, Raven,” Octavia looked like she was about to throw up.

“Sorry, can’t help it if your brother is good at sex. And I mean _really_ go-”

“THANK YOU, RAVEN,” Octavia cut her off again vehemently.

“You know,” Clarke mused, “he really does look like he’s good in bed.”

“I know right!” Raven enthused.

Octavia shook her head. “ _Animals_ ,” she muttered, “ _the both of them_.”

“Hey, speaking of Blakes in bed.” Octavia cringed. “How’s your hot, single boxing instructor?” Raven and Clarke smirked.

“Still hot,” Octavia sighed. “But no longer single.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, babe,” Raven looked at her pitifully.

“You misunderstand,” she smirked, “we kissed the other week after training, and then a few days later we slept together, he just texted me this morning saying he wants to see me tonight, I think he’s gonna ask me to be his girlfriend.”

Clarke look at the girl worriedly, “are you sure? Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy for you, but I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“No, I’m sure. He really seems like the commitment type.”

“That’s what you said about Atom,” Raven pointed out.

Octavia winced, “that was different. I was younger then, stupider.”

Clarke looked doubtful, “like I was younger and stupider last night?”

Raven held her hands up, “wait I’m confused. Did you, or did you not sleep with Bellamy Blake last night?”

“I didn’t,” Clarke clarified before trailing off. Octavia raised her eyebrows expectantly. “But I might have kinda, sorta, tried to,” she mumbled.

“Oof,” Raven winced, “rejection. Harsh.”

“Only because I was too drunk,” Clarke protested.

Raven narrowed her eyes, “so you do _want_ to sleep with him?”

Clarke hesitated and Octavia looked affronted.

“No,” she finally squeaked out but all three of them knew it wasn’t the truth.

Raven laughed and rolled her eyes, “c’mon ladies, the produce aisle awaits.”

\---

Two months later

Clarke sighed, scrubbing the sweat from her forehead and accidentally smearing blood all over it. She cursed, trying to wipe it off. Jackson walked up to her, sympathy in his eyes.

“Go home, Clarke.”

She huffed, “I’m fine.”

“Your shift ended three hours ago, you’re clearly exhausted.”

“It’s an emergency, and I told you – I’m fine.”

He rolled his eyes, “it’s always an emergency, this is the trauma ward.”

“Yeah, but this is the busiest night we’ve had in three years and-”

“And we’re already overstaffed and you standing around dead on your feet really isn’t helpful.”

Clarke hung her head, knowing there was no way she was going to win. “Fine, just promise you’ll call if you need anyone else to pick up some extra shifts.”

He nodded, “of course, now go home and sleep.”

Clarke shook her head, fishing her keys out and walking to her car. She got in and started driving, before she knew it, she was back at that dingy dive-bar. Somehow, this place had become her safe haven after a stressful day at work.

“There’s my best tipper,” Bellamy announced proudly as she strode in, snatching her keys and dumping them in the little dish that had been labelled ‘CLARKE'S HAD A _DAY_ ’.

“Yeah, yeah. Get me a glass of whiskey, would you?”

He raised his eyebrows, pulling out a bottle of her favourite. “Bossy today, are we?”

“Whatever, gimme that,” she snatched the bottle and tore the lid off.

“Don’t tell me, a guy’s heart exploded on your face?”

“Har ha,” she laughed sarcastically, scrubbing at the blood that was obviously still smeared over her forehead.

“Here, let me,” he grabbed a tea towel that from under the bar, dipping it in a glass of water and gently swiping it across. She breathed in the scent of him as she stared straight into the tight abs that rippled under his shirt. She gulped as he pulled back.

“All better,” he whispered. After a moment he threw the rag over his shoulder and _damn, just damn_. He gave her a puzzled look and Clarke realised she had been staring.

“What?” she tried to brush it off.

“You’re staring.”

“Just mentally filing that image away for my spank bank,” she quipped and he rolled his eyes.

\---

Clarke was a little more than tipsy as she stumbled back over to the bar from the games table.

“You might want to tell Roan he’s not as good at pool as he thinks,” Clarke slurred at Bellamy, ignoring the fact that he was currently chatting up a gorgeous brunette.

“Oh, trust me,” he smiled from over the girl’s shoulder, “he knows.”

The girl scoffed and walked off but Bellamy didn’t even seem bothered.

“Sorry about your friend,” Clarke smirked, watching the angry girl leave.

He shrugged, “she was kind of annoying anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, much like this other blond girl I know.”

She was about to retort when she heard a voice that made her blood run cold.

“Clarke, is that you?”

“Finn,” she grimaced, staring daggers into the bar. Bellamy took that at his cue to leave, but Clarke wanted nothing more than for him to stay.

Finn gave her a long, hard look up and down that made her shudder on the inside. “You look good, Clarke.”

“I know.” The fake smile on her lips didn’t reach her menacing eyes, and she didn’t look at him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He hung his head, “you can’t be mad at me forever.”

“I’m not,” she answered simply. “Because, you see, being mad at you would require having any feelings at all towards you. I don’t give a single fucking shit about you, or whether you think I look good tonight, or whether you’re sorry or you’re sad or you miss me because guess what – I don’t fucking miss you.”

“Clarke,” he sounded genuinely hurt, “you don’t mean that.”

“Actually, I do.”

His face contorted, turning from pain to what looked to Clarke like anger. “Listen here you little brat,” he grabbed her wrist, “do you know what I fucking did just to be here in this bar, talking to you? I moved halfway across the country for you, I broke up with my stupid girlfriend of ten years for you, I did everything for you, and you won’t even look at me.”

She turned to face him, “that’s your version of events, is it?” She yanked her arm out from his grasp. “you wanna know how I see it? You _stalked_ me halfway across the country, your girlfriend of ten years – my best friend now, mind you, so I’d watch how you speak about her – broke up with _you_ because you cheated, you did everything for _you_. And you want me to look at you?” she added. “Ok, I’ll look you straight in the eyes for however long you fucking want just so _maybe_ you might finally realise I feel absolutely _nothing_ for you anymore.” She saw the anger turn to shock and suppressed a satisfied grin.

He opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted. “Hey,” a familiar deep voice called from behind her, “we got a problem here?” Finn gave him a once-over before returning his piercing gaze to Clarke. “This guy bothering you?” Bellamy asked her more firmly this time.

“No,” she answered, still not breaking eye contact, “I don’t give a single fuck about him.”

“You heard the lady,” Bellamy’s voice turned to stone, “you’re nothing. Now, go.”

“You can’t kick me out for having a conversation with a pretty girl,” Finn smirked venomously.

“Actually, I can, I’m the owner.”

Clarke smile fakely again, giving Finn a short, condescending wave as he left. “Bye-bye now.” She turned to Bellamy once Finn was out of ear- and eyeshot, “sorry about him.”

“Don’t apologise for him. Who is he anyway?”

She smiled and echoed Bellamy’s words, “he’s nothing.” He gave a curt, understanding nod and she threw back the last of her drink.

This time, when she slammed her drink down on the counter – a little harder than she’d intended – she didn’t even have to ask before he topped her up.

“Ex-boyfriend?” he asked after she’d had a few more sips and calmed down a little.

“Something like that,” she grimaced. “You know what?” she said after a moment, “I’m gonna call the girls over.”

“The girls?”

“Octavia and Raven,” she explained.

Bellamy gulped, “oh goodie, my two biggest fans.”

“Aw, don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

After much protesting, Clarke had convinced her friends to come down to Bellamy’s dingy bar. They were now three shots deep and locked in a furiously competitive game of darts with Roan, Nyko and Octavia’s hot boxing instructor who was now officially her boyfriend.

“Ay!” Raven and Octavia chorused as Clarke sunk yet another dart in the bullseye.

“What can I say, gentlemen?” she asked in response to the boys’ jeers and Roan’s claims of foul-play, “I’m just that good.”

“Well you have been here, practising, for the last two months,” Roan retorted and Clarke’s face fell.

“What?” Octavia asked, getting angry, “you told me you’d been going to Well’s.”

“I… I didn’t want you to be mad,” _like you are now_.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I’ve been here… with Bellamy.”

“As long as you two aren’t hooking up,” she said with a shrug.

“God, Octavia!” Raven interrupted, much drunker than the other two. “I love you, but chill the fuck out, babe.”

“We’re not hooking up, Tav,” Clarke confirmed.

“Good, let’s get drunk.”

“Already there!” Raven sung.

\---

When they finally got back to the building, Bellamy stood outside in the freezing cold with them for ten minutes, trying to get at least one of them to remember which apartment theirs was.

“I think it’s on level two,” Raven said finally. “Yeah, level two, apartment 26.”

They all went upstairs and Octavia fumbled around for her keys. The second they got inside, Bellamy directed her to her room and practically tucked her in. When he came back out, Clarke was sitting peacefully on the couch and Raven was passed out over her. He sighed, carrying Raven to her room and then finally coming to sit down on the couch next to Clarke.

“How was your night?” she asked, jokingly. She had somehow sobered up a little on the way back.

He laughed, “it was good.”

“Do you really mean that?”

He thought for a moment, “yeah, I do.”

“That’s good,” she pat his chest. He started to reply but she had already drifted off, slowly sliding down and finally landing in his lap. Bellamy decided to let her sleep, he lay back on the couch, careful not to wake her, and pulled a blanket over them both. He fell asleep to the soft sounds of Clarke’s snoring, the smell of her hair filling his nostrils.

When Clarke woke up, she was cramping in every possible way. Her legs were half-on, half-off the couch and her arm was awkwardly wrapped around Bellamy’s waist. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up with his head resting on hers, hers resting on his chest, but she couldn’t help admitting that she liked it.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she poked his forehead, jolting him awake.

“Shit,” he groaned, rubbing his temples.

“You put everyone else to bed,” she whispered, “but you let me stay out here with you.”

He turned a deep shade of red. “Oh, yeah I was just super tired and you looked so peaceful and I also don’t really know where your room is and-” he cut himself off, noticing her grin. “What?”

“You’re flustered,” she replied simply, “it’s cute.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at her, she cackled in response.

“Oh my god,” Octavia groaned, walking out of her room, “would you guys shut up. I have the _worst_ hangover.”

Clarke bit her lips to keep from laughing, “Sorry, Tav.”

Octavia just rolled her eyes before stomping back to bed.

“Was she always this grumpy when she's hungover?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy snickered, “yep.” He popped the ‘p’ and she couldn’t help but burst out.

Octavia stomped out again, “loved-up assholes.”

Before either of them could protest though, she was out the door.

“Should we…?”

He rolled his eyes, “nah, she’ll be fine. She used to do this all the time, whenever she got sick of me she’d just storm off and crash at one of her friends’ places until she decided I’d been stressing long enough.”

“Were you really stressing?”

He snorted, “I was for all of ten minutes until whichever friend she was with texted me and told me she was with them.”

“Octavia wouldn’t have been happy about that,” Clarke remarked.

“Oh, she didn’t know. Still doesn’t.”

Clarke let out another hearty laugh and Bellamy joined in.

\---

Three weeks later

“Boo!” Clarke threw popcorn at the screen as JD and Veronica flirted. “Don't fuck him! He's a psychopath!”

“Spoilers,” Bellamy exclaimed.

“Sorry!” she whispered, she’d forgotten he hadn’t seen this movie before. “I still can’t believe you’ve never seen _Heathers_ , it’s such a classic.”

“Well, I’m watching it now, aren’t I?”

“Fair.”

She stretched out, lying her legs across his lap. Subconsciously, he reached his hand out and started to draw soft circles across her thighs, Clarke suppressed the shudder his hands brought on.

“What do want to watch after this?”

She thought for a moment, “maybe you could show me one of those old movies you love?”

He smiled, “sure. How does _Annie Get Your Gun_ sound?”

She returned the gesture, “sounds great.”

After _Heathers_ finished Clarke grinned as Bellamy sat, his brows furrowed, trying to come to terms with the ending. “What the fuck,” he whispered.

“Did you like it?”

“That was so fucked up.”

She giggled. “That’s the beauty of it though, there’s no happy ending, no resolutions, just four dead kids and a musical version that has some banging tunes but really shaves off a lot of the darkness.”

“Ok, we need something to lighten us up,” Bellamy told her decidedly.

She laughed, “like what.”

He didn’t answer, instead reaching over to hook his phone up to her speaker and then standing and offering her his hand. She laughed again as an old song she recognised as _Come Go With Me_ started playing.

“Well? Are you going to leave me hanging?”

She shook her head, taking his hand and letting him pull her up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.”

Her chuckle was cut off by a gasp as he yanked her up, and she landed hard against his chest. She brushed it off, starting to sway around in a circle. He followed along, letting her lead.

As the song tapered off, another started playing. This time, it was _La Vie En Rose_. She looked up at Bellamy, waiting for him to pull away, but he didn’t. He just held her tighter, his pace slowing to match the song. She let her head fall against his chest, her arms hooking around his neck and his around her waist.

“I love this song,” she whispered.

“Me too.”

The lyrics came in soon after.

_Hold me close and hold me fast_

She shifted, burying her head further into him, letting her eyelids fall shut.

_And though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose_

As Bellamy’s hands moved, his fingers slipped under her shirt and Clarke felt them ghost the skin against her waist, feeling the goose bumps that raised where he went.

_Give you heart and soul to me_

Clarke could feel herself getting swept away as the music built. She looked up to see Bellamy’s eyes staring straight into her soul. Without thinking, she leaned up ever so slightly – a question. He leaned down fractionally – an answer. Clarke wasn’t sure who exactly initiated the gesture but lips were on lips and she felt like her insides her on fire. The music behind the swelled as the last few bars rang out.

“You’re such a cliché,” she whispered against his lips.

“So are you,” he countered, kissing the smile off her face. And for the first time in forever, Clarke felt happy.

**Author's Note:**

> what did y'all think? i have a feeling it's hella disjointed as i am _significantly_ drunker than i was last time i did one of these and ill prolly end up coming back and fixing this at some point. also, check out my fic Your Home Is With Me (chapter nine just went up).
> 
> comments and kudos keep me up to my ears in goon x


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